


Stranger Things Have Happened

by Black_Hole_of_Procrastination



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Multi, Stranger Things AU, polyamorous teenage monster slaying OT3s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 07:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10407198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Hole_of_Procrastination/pseuds/Black_Hole_of_Procrastination
Summary: Of all the weird shit that has happened over the last few days, he supposes making nice with Hardying is the least of it.





	1. Stranger Things

It’s weird. The sight of Hardyng on his couch. 

_Nearly as weird as setting out bear traps and gasoline to catch a monster._

Jon slumps against the paneling in the living room. The fire extinguisher is still clutched tightly in his bandaged hand. 

He can hear Sansa in the kitchen banging open cupboards. He can’t imagine what she’ll find there. The house is a mess. The hall carpet and walls scorched through. Furniture overturned and broken. 

_But things were a mess before this._

Jon casts a tired look at the colorful strings of lights that dangle off the walls and lie tangled together in bunches on the floor. Mom will be pissed with him for nearly burning the place down, but Jon figures it’ll be hard for Lyanna to try to claim the high ground when she took a hatchet to the walls only a few days ago. 

Sansa emerges from the kitchen with two glasses of water. Harry has to be prompted twice before he grabs one with shaking hands, taking two hurried gulps that sputter into a series of coughs. 

Jon is surprised when Sansa offers the second glass to him.

“We should go back to the gymnasium,” she says, watching as he takes his first sip. “To check on Bran and the others.”

Jon nods his head. They really shouldn’t have left the kids on their own in the first place. He can see from the way Sansa worries her lower lip between her teeth that she feels guilty for it too. 

“I’m coming with you.” Hardyng is on his feet now, still a little dazed, but looking at Sansa with an awful lot of determination for a guy who just tried to frantically club a monster to death.

For a moment, Sansa seems like she’s going to refuse him. Her eyes flit to Jon for half a second, as if looking to him for some back up, but then her shoulders sag and she gives a single, short nod. 

Jon doesn’t say anything. He figures Harry’s shown he can handle himself.

They head outside. 

Harry ushers Sansa towards his BMW, his hand on her back almost unthinking. Jon fishes in his pockets for the keys to his beat-up Ford when Harry’s voice calls across the yard.

“Snow!” Hardyng is frowning at him. “What are you doing?”

Jon blinks, not sure how to answer.

Harry huffs out a laugh before moving to open the backseat door of his car. 

“Get in,” he says. 

Jon hesitates a moment before putting his keys back in his pocket and making his way over to Hardyng. He can feel Sansa’s eyes on him as he slides into the backseat. 

Hardyng starts the engine before looking at Jon in his rearview mirror.

“We’re sticking together. Got it.”

Jon doesn’t know what to make of that. Less than 24 hrs ago he and Harry had been pounding the ever loving crap out of each other, and now…

“Yeah,” Jon agrees finally. “Sure.” 

Hardyng smiles wide, the cut on his lip looking ready to split, and then reverses the car onto the road. 

Jon is silent as they pass the shadowy outlines of trees and houses. 

Of all the weird shit that has happened over the last few days, he supposes making nice with Hardying is the least of it. 


	2. A Graveyard Smash

“What’s Jon Snow doing here?”

Myranda’s question catches Sansa just as she’s about to take a sip from her innocuous red cup of Harry’s party “punch”. Sansa whirls to see where Myranda is pointing. 

Sure enough, there he is. Jon Snow, hovering in the Waynwood’s foyer, looking for all the world as if he’d like nothing better than to crawl out of his own skin or sink through a hole in the floor.

“Harry invited him.”

Sansa had been there when Harry asked, wedged between Harry and Jon at their designated lunch table, just as they’d sat every lunch period since the ‘incident’ the previous November. 

Jon had begged off coming to the party with some story about promising to take Arya trick-or-treating, though Sansa knew there was more to it than that.

There was stuff they’d all grown used to with the new order of things. Huddling together in the cafeteria. Sharing rides to school. Catching a movie on a Friday night. But whatever little world they’d created between the three of them didn’t extend to things like homecoming dances or keggers in a house full of Harry’s friends… or so Sansa had thought.

“Well, he could have at least bothered with some kind of costume,” Myranda sniffs, before edging her way towards the den where the bulk of the football team has gathered.

Sansa makes for Jon. He looks both frantic and relieved when he finally notices her approaching.

“A princess?” he teases half-heartedly, giving her costume a once over. “That figures.”

Sansa looks him over as well, and for a moment, she thinks Myranda is wrong. Yes, Jon is wearing the same beatup sneakers and jeans he wears to school everyday, but there is a hatchet of some kind tucked into his belt and fake blood splattered over his grey tshirt and hands. Sansa wracks her brain for what he could possibly be dressed as, thinking of movies and books Jon’s mentioned in passing, when she notices the very _real_ cut along the side of Jon’s temple. 

“Jon, what’s happened?”

He pulls in a ragged breath, his shoulders tensing under his ratty jacket. 

“Beric Dondarrion.”

Sansa frowns.

“I don’t understand,” Sansa frowns. “Coach Dondarrion is dead.”

“He _was_ dead,” Jon corrects her.

Sansa’s stomach drops as the implication of Jon’s words sinks in.

“That’s not…that’s not _possible!_ ” Sansa says weakly, though she knows after all the crazy that happened last fall it is _very_  possible.

Before Jon can respond a shout sounds from the entryway to the kitchen.

“Snow!” 

Harry is grinning and shouldering past people to reach them. He’s at least two beers in, his cheeks a little ruddy and the fedora of his Indiana Jones costume goofily tilted onto the back of his head. 

“I told you he was coming!” Harry crows, pressing a kiss to Sansa’s cheek before throwing a companionable arm over Jon’s shoulder. “Let’s get this man a drink!”

“Hardyng, I can’t–”

“Pssh,” Harry waves his hand dismissively. “This is a party, Snow. You need to lighten up. Here, I want to show you. I’ve been playing some of those records you gave me. Wait until you see the stereo setup my cousins hooked up. It is unreal. Seriously, just–”

Jon ducks out from Harry’s arm.

“Harry, I _can’t_.”

Harry’s face falls. He finally pauses long enough to really look at Jon, taking in the head wound and deadly weapon tucked into his belt.

“You’re not staying, are you?” 

“No.”

“I see.” Harry nods, his eyebrows drawn together into a frown. He looks a bit like a kicked puppy, his disappointment palpable. “Ok, fine,” he says finally, huffing out a sigh. “But _I’m_ driving.”

Harry leaves no room for Jon or Sansa to protest, already charging towards the front door. They follow swiftly behind.

“He can’t drive like that,” Jon sputters, watching as Harry fumbles in his pockets for his keys. 

“Our gym teacher’s back from the dead and _that’s_ what you’re worried about right now?” Sansa asks.

“Right,” Jon gives a hollow laugh, plucking Harry’s keys out of his hands and ignoring Harry’s protests and desperate grabs at taking them back. “Well for all our sake’s I hope you’ve hung onto those bear traps, Stark.”

Sansa makes her own grab for the keys, while Jon’s distracted by Harry. She jingles them off of one crooked finger, and shoots Jon a triumphant smirk.

“You bet.”


End file.
